


I'm Just Jealous, I'm Just Human

by SherlockItsOnlyLogical



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A lot of them - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blink and you'll miss it military kink, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Bottoming from the Top, But it's not calm in any sense of the word, Captain John Watson, It's not like "I'm going to fuck you until you can't move" rough, Jealous John, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Love Bites, M/M, Military Kink, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Possessive John, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Somewhat, Top John Watson, but mostly just porn, ish, there's a tiny bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockItsOnlyLogical/pseuds/SherlockItsOnlyLogical
Summary: Sherlock brings a guy home from the bar thinking that John is still at work, but when he walks into the flat to find the army doctor sitting in his chair, his plans for the night change rather significantly.





	I'm Just Jealous, I'm Just Human

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn't been beta'd so I apologize for any mistakes. Otherwise, enjoy what my horrible dirty mind has created.

Sherlock Holmes had never been a man who was endowed with the ability to eloquently convey his feelings. This is the reason that it had been four bloody years since he had fallen in love with his best friend and flatmate but had never actually said anything. There were perfectly sound other reasons of course, none in particular that happened to come to mind, but they certainly existed. 

***

John Watson on the other hand had never been one to hesitate in the realm of romance or sexuality. This of course changed entirely when he fell in love with Sherlock Holmes. But could one really blame him? Sherlock had told him up front that he considered himself “married to his work” and denied advances that he hadn’t even been making at the time. The reason John normally had such a sense of self-confidence was because he had rarely ever been turned down, his charming yet domineering Captain John Watson persona had never failed him before, but how was he supposed to confidently pursue a man who had made it quite clear that he was not interested?

***

Sherlock had had lovers in the past of course, back in University, but the high from the relationships was quickly replaced in his life by the drugs which now were replaced the work. The work was what kept Sherlock sane, without it he would surely still be making countless reckless decisions in order to keep his mind occupied. 

Of course, after Sherlock had realized he had fallen head over heels for his flatmate the work did little to distract him from that. So for four years Sherlock had had an itch in his mind palace that he had been entirely unable to scratch. It was infuriating honestly. Surely after four years there should be some sort of relief, but it seemed that with each passing day the urge only intensified.

Sherlock knew he had to do something to ease this feeling, certainly there was something capable of soothing this horrid feeling. Drugs were not an option however, he would never forget the way John looked at him when he found out about his history of usage and though he was attempting to move past the infatuation, the last thing he wanted was an angry and disappointed army doctor in his flat. So Sherlock was down to only one other option, the one he wanted least he was going to have to interact with other people.

And this is how the detective found himself in an upscale club in central London with his lips attached to those of an attractive blonde- who he was trying to convince himself he was attracted to for reasons other than his similarities to his flatmate.

“Do you want to get out of here?” The other man, Sherlock had truly not paid any attention to his name, asked.

Sherlock almost sighed in relief, “God, yes.”

“Shit, my ‘mate has guests this weekend, we can’t go to my flat, is yours available?”

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, “Yes.” John had the late shift at the surgery tonight.

Sherlock led the blonde outside and quickly hailed a cab. After giving the address he sat back in his seat and looked out of the window, he may be desperate enough to have gotten this far, but there was no way he was about to do foreplay in the back of a grungy London cab.

When they reached their destination Sherlock tossed some money at the driver and led the other man inside, swiftly past Mrs. Hudson, and up the stair to his flat where he opened the door to a rather unexpected sight: John was already home and was sitting in his chair reading the paper.

Sherlock signaled the blonde- honestly he should have paid more attention to the man’s name- to wait in the hall for a moment. “I thought you had the late shift tonight?” Sherlock questioned casually.

“I got off early, slow night,” John replied with a shrug, not looking up from his paper. “Where’ve you been?”

Sherlock hesitated only momentarily before quickly brushing off the question, “out.”

“Out?” This time John looked up and arched an eyebrow not only at the man’s response, but at the sight that greeted him. Sherlock looked… he didn’t even have words to describe. The detective was wearing his deep purple button-up shirt with the top few buttons carelessly undone, John always secretly admired the way that shirt clung to Sherlock’s muscular frame when his flatmate wasn’t looking, his lips seemed to be slightly swollen and his hair even more of a mess than usual, but the thing that took John the most off guard were Sherlock’s trousers, sinfully tight and clearly showing the younger man’s arousal.

Everything suddenly clicked in John’s head and he felt a sudden and intense surge of jealousy. Sherlock had clearly not been expecting him because he was bringing someone into the flat. Someone who was responsible for the state of Sherlock’s appearance. John cleared his throat awkwardly, “uh, I was just uh... “ he stood and set the paper down on the table, “going to bed.” 

John attempted to walk past Sherlock without making eye contact, but when he was only maye one step away from each other the detective’s deep baritone spoke, “John.” The doctor’s eyes immediately snapped up and he was instantly lost in the current deep blue shade of Sherlock’s eyes. They were mere inches apart and he glanced from his eyes down to Sherlock’s lips. In his new level of closeness he could clearly see that the man’s lips were swollen and the jealousy that was coursing through him took control and he leaned forward to capture them with his own.

Sherlock froze momentarily, eyes wide, before melting into the kiss and taking John’s lower lip between his teeth and biting softly, forgetting the man he had abandoned in the hallway. After several moments the kiss broke and both men pulled away breathless, leaning their foreheads together. 

“I’m sorry,” John whispered.

Sherlock pulled his head back, appalled, “Sorry? For what?”

“You clearly had… plans,” John managed.

Sherlock’s eyes widened, “Shit. One moment.” Sherlock turned toward the door and took a couple steps before turning back to look at John, “Don’t go anywhere.” 

Sherlock dipped quickly out into the hallway and John heard another voice that confirmed his hypothesis and took a deep breath, closing his eyes to calm the intense jealousy within him. He had no right to be jealous, Sherlock had made himself quite clear multiple times that he had no interest in John. And what had John done in response? Kiss him. Good one, Watson. Now he’s out there shooing away someone he actually likes so he can come in here and deal with the problem you’ve created.

When Sherlock had returned John opened his eyes to see the man before him in a completely different state than the one he had been in only moments prior. The arousal was still there, but it was now hidden behind a layer of confusion that mingled with hope and… love? No, it couldn’t be.

“John,” Sherlock whispered, walking back across the room to his friend, coming much closer than the older man had expected. 

“I know, I’m sorry Sherlock. I shouldn’t have done that. I had no right. Now I’ve ruined your plans for th-” John was cut off by the detective’s lips pressing to his own and he couldn’t bring himself to care about what the end of his sentence was supposed to be. John brough his hands up to tangle in the taller man’s dark curls, an action he had imagined doing countless times but never believed he would be able to make a reality. Sherlock’s hands went to John’s hips and slid up to the small of his back where he used the leverage to pull John closer until they were pressed together and John could feel Sherlock’s still present arousal against his hip.

Several minutes later Sherlock broke the kiss and the two men leaned on each other, breathing heavily. “You’re a bloody idiot,” Sherlock managed through ragged breaths. “How long?”

John pulled back slightly to look into Sherlock’s eyes, “What do you mean, how long?”

“How long have you wanted to do that?” Sherlock asked him directly.

John’s already flushed cheeks turned a shade darker as he mumbled his reply into his friend’s shoulder.

“What?” Sherlock said, unable to distinguish what the army doctor had said.

“A while,” John managed, this time looking into the younger man’s eyes.

“We’re both so stupid,” Sherlock laughed as he leaned down to connect their lips once again. This time the kiss was deep and passionate, both men seeming desperate to be closer to the other. Sherlock began walking backwards until the back of his knees hit the sofa before turning them around and lowering John to the sofa and straddling the shorter man’s hips, never letting their lips separate. 

In this position Sherlock was suddenly aware of John’s arousal pushing into his inner thigh. He smiled into the kiss and lowered his hips until his arse was pressed fully to John’s lap and ground his hips down experimentally, relishing the deep moan that fell from the other man’s lips. John threw his head back and Sherlock took the opportunity to attach his lips to the base his lover’s neck. He slowly bit, licked, and kissed his way up to John’s jaw before working his way back down, pausing occasionally to suck a dark purple bruise into the soft flesh. 

“Sh-Sherlock,” John choked out through moans and gasps, “we should stop.”

Sherlock immediately stopped his ministrations and pulled away from the blonde’s neck and looked at him with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?”John was appalled at the thought, “No, no no, Sherlock nothing is wrong.” Sherlock was alert on his lap and was staring at him anxiously awaiting an explanation. “You didn’t do anything wong. I was just getting a little too… er, excited.” 

John’s face turned bright red and Sherlock let out a loud laugh of relief, “That was rather the point.” Sherlock reattached his lips to John’s neck and ground his hips down once again, dedicating the sound that fell from John’s lips to his memory.

“W-we should talk,” John gasped, fighting desperately to keep his mind clear enough to think properly.

“Boring,” Sherlock mumbled against the doctor’s neck as he continued his ministrations. 

John sighed half in pleasure and half in frustration, but he had lost the will to fight against his body’s demands. He placed one of his hands on the detective’s hips and the other moved to Sherlock’s jaw to remove his lips from his neck so he could attach them to his own. Sherlock sighed into the kiss and quickly slipped his tongue between the older man’s lips. 

“Bedroom?” Sherlock questioned after several moments. 

“God, yes,” John moaned. Sherlock rose quickly from his position on John’s lap and grabbed the doctor’s hand to pull him along as he practically ran to his own bedroom. When they arrived, John quickly took control of the situation, grabbing the taller man’s wrists and pinning him to the door; Sherlock had the upperhand in height, but John knew he had it in strength. 

“God, John,” Sherlock gasped at the suddenness of the action. 

John began enthusiastically biting and kissing down the detective’s neck. He let his lips trail down to Sherlock’s collarbone where he sucked and bit a dark bruise into the sensitive flesh and then repeated this along the entire expanse of the younger man’s pale neck. When he was finished John pulled away momentarily to admire his work and Sherlock observed John as he watched the doctor’s pupils dilate impossibly further. 

“So the good Dr. John Watson has a possessive streak does he?” Sherlock teased breathlessly.

John couldn’t bring himself to care about how ridiculous it was that he wanted to have Sherlock as his and only his even though they had only just kissed minutes prior. “Mine,” he practically growled as he captured Sherlock’s with his own and bit down roughly on his bottom lip.

“Yes, John,” Sherlock moaned into the kiss. “Yours.”

John spun the detective away from the door and walked him backwards until his knees hit the bed and Sherlock fell effortlessly onto the plush mattress. Sherlock rushed to place himself fully on the bed and John followed quickly after him, straddling his hips and steadying himself with a hand on either side of the detective’s mess of curls. Sherlock took advantage of his now free hands and pulled John’s jumper up, John got the memo and quickly finished the John and removed his vest after it, baring his chest completely before returning his lips to his lover’s. Sherlock’s hands began to travel the muscular expanse of John’s back, arms, and chest, dedicating a room in his mind palace to the memorization of every inch of skin.

John steadied himself on one arm so he could begin working on the button’s of Sherlock’s purple button down, “I love this shirt, but it needs to go now,” he managed through ragged breathing. When the buttons were undone, John ran his hand over the long expanse of Sherlock’s chest, enjoying the smooth skin of the body below him. Slowly he began trailing kissed down Sherlock’s jaw and neck, stopping to kiss each dark bruise he had left in his onslaught earlier. His lips trailed down to the detective’s beautiful, prominent collarbones, he licked a trail from the base of Sherlock’ sternum to the hollow of his throat and the low moan that was released from the younger man’s throat urged him on. 

“John, I need...,” Sherlock moaned. He didn’t even know what it was he was asking for, he just knew that he needed something, anything.

The doctor smirked into his lover’s skin. He, John Watson, had reduced the great Sherlock Holmes to a moaning and mess beneath him. “What do you need?” he teased, his breath ghosting over the younger man’s nipple.

“John,” Sherlock breathed, frustration hinting at the edges of the pleasure in his voice. “Touch me, kiss me, fuck me, anything you want. I’m yours, John.”

John looked up at his lover, stunned silence filling the air. “Sherlock,” John managed, trying his best to keep his voice even. The other man looked into his eyes and John spoke again, “are you sure? We don’t have to do everything tonight if you don’t want to. I don’t want to pressure you.”

Sherlock furrowed his brow, “Of course I’m sure, John.” Sherlock wrapped his legs around the doctor and used the leverage to roll them, pinning John’s arms to on either side of his head. “You are the one thing I have always been sure about. But you should know that if we take this step there is no going back for me. If you aren’t positive that this is what you want I need to know now and I will let you walk out of that door and we can pretend that none of this ever happened. But if you are sure,” Sherlock paused, “You have already consumed my life, John Watson, and I love you.”

John looked into his lover’s eyes, so full of emotion behind the arousal, and gasped. “I love you too, Sherlock Holmes. Of course I’m sure.”

Sherlock smiled as he leaned down to press their lips together that was different than the previous ones, if was slower, more intimate. Sherlock removed himself from his lover’s lips only briefly to finish removing his shirt before removing and connecting their lips once again. Sherlock rolled his hips down, mimicking his earlier actions on the sofa. Sherlock slowly began to explore John’s skin, his neck his collarbones, his soft yet muscular chest and coarse hair that lightly coated it. Sherlock slowly inched his way down the smooth expanse of skin until his lips met the edge of John’s trousers and poised his hands on the button before looking up at John for one last confirmation. 

John nodded and laid his head back on the pillow, lifting his hips when Sherlock prompted him so the younger man could slid his trousers from his body. The detective slowly licked at the outline of John’s cock through his pants, mouthing at the width of him straining against the cotton fabric. “God, Sherlock,” John moaned beneath him, rutting his hips up gently.

Sherlock brought a hand to each of John’s hips, holding them down to the bed as he continued teasing the doctor through the soft cotton. When Sherlock decided that the man below him was thoroughly debauched he eased his grip on the man’s hips and slid his thin fingers under the band of the red pants in front of him, swiftly pulling them down to join John’s trousers on the floor. Now able to see all of the man in front of him, Sherlock took a moment to appreciate the view, John’s hair was a wild mess on top of his head and sweat beaded at his face that was flush with arousal, the heavy rise and fall of his muscular chest as he breathed rapidly, the soft yet defined lines of muscle tone down his abdomen and his legs, and Sherlock’s eyes finally came to rest on the doctor’s hard cock that rested against his stomach and was already dripping precome from the tip. 

“You’re beautiful, John,” Sherlock breathed as he leaned in to rest his head on John’s upper thigh and wrapped his hand around the thick cock just inches from his face. He gave a few slow pumps, listening intently to the heady moans coming from above him. Sherlock removed his hand and moved in closer, pressing featherlight kisses to the shaft and slowly traveling upwards. 

John’s hands were clenched into the sheets as he tried desperately to keep himself from grabbing Sherlock’s curls and shoving his cock down the detective’s throat until he choked. He did however save that thought for another time. When Sherlock’s gentle caresses had finally reached the tip, he switched to long and soft licks, making John’s body jerk with the sensation. “Sherlock, please,” John begged.

“Honestly John, I didn’t think it would be this easy to make you beg,” Sherlock smirked. “I was really hoping for a little bit more from you.”

John sighed, Sherlock had a point. Sherlock couldn’t know for sure, but John had a feeling he knew that the doctor had never been the begging type in the bedroom. John gathered his wits and grabbed a fist full of the detectives curls and pulled him up for a long and deep kiss. “Be careful what you wish for,” he practically hissed before quickly taking back control of the situation and flipping the detective onto his back.

“John,” Sherlock gasped at the suddenness. He took in his new position, his hands were once again pinned to either side of his head and John had his knees anchored on either side of Sherlock’s slim hips with his strong calves hooked over the lean muscles of his thighs. Sherlock was effectively trapped and he was loving it. John looked down at his lover, eyes displaying the most maddening combination of arousal and needed that Sherlock thought he had ever seen in his life. 

“You want more? I’ll give you more, Sherlock,” John’s voice had turned almost dangerous in a matter of seconds and Sherlock felt his cock somehow becoming even more interested in the situation as it strained against the tight material of his trousers. He struggled in an attempt to lift his hips and make John more aware of the material that still covered the bottom half of his body, but his attempt failed and only make John’s wicked smirk turn more sinister as he leaned down and attached his lips to one of Sherlock’s nipples, biting at it, just the right side of too hard. John grabbed Sherlock’s scarf that was conveniently draped over headboard where he had most likely flung it before going out earlier that night and used it to tie the younger man’s wrists together above his head and then wound the ends around the headboard, effectively trapping him.

Sherlock looked wrecked, his neck and collarbones had countless bruises that would definitely visible no matter how the man attempted to arrange himself tomorrow, his lips were swollen and parted slightly, a dark pink tink covered his cheekbones and traveled in a lighter gradient across the rest of his face, and his eyes were alert but not in their normal way, Sherlock looked as though most his mind was floating far beyond his reach and what remained of it was this moment and his arousal and John. The rest of the world could have burst into flames and Sherlock wouldn’t have noticed or cared because John fucking Watson had him tied to a damn bed and it was more than he ever could have dreamed of.

“God, Sherlock, you’re beautiful,” John whispered, his voice softening slightly. “I love to see you all marked up,” John ran his hand down his lover’s neck, pushing slightly on the bruises as he passed them. “Love to see the proof that you’re mine,” his voice became dangerous again and John adjusted his legs so he was now situated between the detective’s and pulled the godforsaken tight trousers and pants off of the man’s slim frame in one swift pull.

“John. I need you. Fuck, I need you, God, John.” The detective was so overwhelmed that his words were running together.

“Sshhhh,” John soothed the younger man, running his hands up and down the sides if his narrow body, “I’m going to take care of you, Sherlock.” John, true to his word, leaned down and took the entirely of Sherlock’s cock into his mouth, the tip hitting the back of his throat as he fought back his gag reflex. 

Sherlock’s vision went black for several seconds. He had had lovers in the past and it had entailed blowjobs, but the knowledge that it was John’s mouth around his cock made everything that much more exhilarating. Time seemed to be standing still, the only movement that mattered was the slow, wet drag of John’s lips up and down his length and the flick of John’s tongue over the tip each time. Sherlock tugged against the scarf that held his wrists captive, he could easily slip out of the soft material, but he had absolutely no wish to do so.

John slid Sherlock’s length out of his mouth and looked up at him for a moment. “Do you have lube?” 

“Bedside drawer,” Sherlock breathed.

John quickly hopped from the bed to grab the tube from the drawer before returning to his position between the younger man’s legs. He slicked up his fingers and dragged his index finger from Sherlock’s balls to his tight hole and circled it gently, watching the other man squirm beneath him. “Is this okay?” John asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Sherlock half moaned. When John slipped his finger into the first knuckle Sherlock pushed down on it, trying to bury it deeper. “I’m not a virgin, John, you don’t need to be so gentle.”

John chuckled, “And here I thought you were insistent outside of the bedroom.”

“Oh, sod off,” Sherlock breathed, his breath hitching as John quickly inserted his finger the rest of the way and crooked it to brush the detective’s prostate. He waited only momentarily before removing the finger entirely and reinserting it beside a second, pushing them in as far as was possible. Sherlock hissed at the suddenness but it turned quickly into a moan as the pain melted away into pleasure. “Now that’s what I was expecting from Captain John Watson,” Sherlock smirked, watching as John’s pupils dilated. “Oh, do you like me calling attention to your rank, Captain?” Sherlock’s voice twisted seductively around the title, observing once again how John’s body reacted. This was going to be fun.

John started trusting his finger into Sherlock’s body with a renewed vigor, suddenly out of patience to play games and desperate to have his cock buried in the tight heat that wrapped deliciously around his fingers. After a couple minutes he once again withdrew his fingers and reinserted three, going all the way to the last knuckle.

“God, Captain,” Sherlock moaned. “John just fuck me already. I’ll be okay,” he begged.

John took one more second to ensure the detective really was ready, not letting his lust fully cloud his judgement, before pulling out and slicking his cock and placing it against Sherlock’s sensitive arse. “Say please,” John smirked down at his lover.

“What?” Sherlock asked, looking at the man above him like he had completely lost his mind. 

“You heard me,” John retorted, looking down at his lover with his best Captain Watson smile. He leaned in closer, kissing up the man’s bruised neck until he reached his ear. “Your Captain told you to say please. I want you to beg for my cock, Sherlock. One little word and I’ll fuck you until you can’t move,” John whispered filthily in his ear. He continued his mantra as he licked and bit down the detective’s neck, relishing in the moans but making no attempt to progress any further as he waited.

“John,” Sherlock moaned, frustration coating his voice. “This is ridiculous.”

“You are the one who asked for this, “John bit harshly into soft flesh at his lips. 

Sherlock had never once in his life begged to be fucked. It always tended to be the other way around, he liked to have men beg for him. Make them plead until he fucked them or let them fuck him. Other men had been more than willing to do so, desperate in their wanting, sometime it had even seemed too easy.

But this wasn’t just anyone and Sherlock had to remind himself of that. This was John. John who had gotten so jealous Sherlock had brought home a man from the bar that he had managed to get Sherlock into bed with his arms tied above his head. John who had marked up his neck in a way he had never allowed anyone else, but hadn’t thought twice about allowing. John who was looking at him like he was something to eat. John who loves him. 

“Please, John,” Sherlock moaned, suddenly free of his hesitations. “Please, John I need you. Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

John smiled cockily into the younger man’s neck and shifted his hips forward, not stopping until he was buried deep inside of his lover.

“Fuck, John,” Sherlock half screamed, digging his fingernails into his palm. 

John reached up and untied his lover’s wrists, moaning when the hands went directly to his back and nails dragged firmly down his back. John pulled out torturously slow before snapping his hips back with an obscenely loud noise at his hips made contact with Sherlock’s arse.

The younger man threw his head back with a loud moan and another firm drag of his nails down the doctor’s back. John was certain that Sherlock had drawn blood with the last one but couldn’t bring himself to care as he repeated the motion. He was angling his hips just so that he barely grazed Sherlock’s prostate with each trust, driving the younger man to the brink of insanity.

After several more thrusts, Sherlock wrapped his legs around the older man’s hips and squeezed him tightly, using the leverage to roll them over so he was now seated on his lover’s cock. “I love you, John,” he moaned as he rotated his hips, “But that was getting to be ridiculous.”

John rolled his eyes at the snarky comment but really couldn’t bring himself to care that much. The view he was enjoying now was better than anything he had ever seen. He trailed his strong hands up Sherlock’s smooth legs and to his hips, gripping them tightly and guiding him as he lifted and lowered his hips. “You’re beautiful like this, Sherlock,” John breathed.

“You mean riding your cock?” The detective quirked an eyebrow, “I’d have say you’re rather biased.”

John chuckled. Sherlock was right of course, but it was more than that. The London sunset was peaking through the window, painting the detective’s pale skin with subtle shades of orange and pink. His face was flushed and his hair was a bloody mess as his curls shifted gently with each movement. Sherlock really was stunning, there was no question.

John could feel his orgasm drawing near, curling in the pit of his stomach, and he slid on of his hands from Sherlock’s hip to take his erection in hand and stroke it in time with the rise and fall of his hips. “John,” Sherlock moaned, his hips stuttering and the muscles in his thighs beginning to flutter. John quickly flipped Sherlock back onto his back and thrusted into his lover hard and fast, aiming right of the man’s prostate. 

It took only a few more minutes until Sherlock was clenching around John’s cock as his orgasm hit him and he came in ropes across his chest with John’s name on his lips. A few more thrusts into Sherlock’s tight heat and John was following him with what had to be the most intense orgasm in his entire life.

When he was spent, John collapsed onto the bed next to his detective. They were both breathing erratically and they looked at each other, eyes full of admiration for the other. “You,” John struggled through heavy breaths, “are amazing, Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock gave a breathy chuckle, “The sentiment is mutual.” 

Several minutes passed until they were both breathing normally and John left the room to grab a flannel to wipe them off. When he returned he wiped his lover’s chest before spreading his legs and leaning down to look at where his own release was dripping from Sherlock’s well fucked arse, he took a moment to appreciate the sight, the proof that Sherlock was his and no one else’s, before wiping it away.

After they were as sufficiently cleaned as one could be without a shower, John returned to lay beside his lover and took a moment to appreciate the number he had done on Sherlock’s neck. “You are definitely aren’t going to be able to cover these,” John said, suddenly a little bit concerned. “I guess I got a little bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, John, you’re the first person I’ve ever allowed to leave a single mark,” Sherlock looked over at his doctor, his eyes had widened a little bit at that and his breathing accelerated, clearly a little aroused by the information despite the very recent orgasm. “If I cared about visibility at all I wouldn’t have let you leave them in the first place. I do rather enjoy your possessive streak. I hadn’t expected that one.”

John placed his lips on Sherlock’s and pulled the other man closer to him until their chests were pressed together. “God, how have we been so stupid?” 

“Well, I don’t know, John ‘I’m Not Gay’ Watson. How could that message possibly have been misinterpreted?” Sherlock teased.

“Well, I had to do something after you completely shut me down by saying you were married to your work,” John argued.

Sherlock smiled at the man in front of him, his eyes shining with love and adoration. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, “ Sherlock leaned in to connect their lips in a chaste kiss. “I love you, John Watson.”

John smiled brilliantly, “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that. I love you too, Sherlock.” 

After several moments of lying silently in eachothers’ arms Sherlock spoke again, “John?”

“Yes, love?” 

Sherlock cleared his throat, he knew he had no reason to feel nervous, but still, the feeling persisted, “Go on a date with me?”

John opened his eyes and looked at the beautiful man in front of him, “Of course, Sherlock. Nothing would make me happier.” John connected their lips once again. The kiss was slow, passionate but not sexual. It was the kiss of men who were finally at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it folks, 5,376 words of shameless smut. I hope you enjoyed. Also I need validation so please comment if you feel compelled to do so!
> 
> Extra side note: I get that it's not super rough. Sorry if that offends you, but I won't remove the tag because I know that the content in this could be viewed at rough to people who are sensitive to the content. If you're only commenting to yell at me about that, please just don't bother, I will delete it.


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